Smile
by Angels and Immortals
Summary: Diva reminisces on a past better left forgotten, of a present less suffered, and of a future too sweet to bear.


**Dear Readers, **

**Just wanted to thank everyone for their support and helpful comments. I appreciate all you guys do because it is YOU that keeps me writing. Anyways, this was another spurt (or is it spur? Hmm..) of the moment idea concerning the Diva factor. I decided that I would portray her as an intelligent psychopath, sort of like the man in Hemingway's "The Telltale Heart". Little is known about Diva, but from what I gather she is a complex character with personalities ranging from childlike to calculative and deranged. Anyways, this won't be my best work but the thought had to go somewhere. Thanks again and please read, rate, and reply!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Blood + and this is not done for profit.**

**Sincerely,**

**Angels and Immortals**

**Smile**

I liked pain for the reality it wrought. Because sometimes the life, MY life, that I existed in seemed something borne from the womb of an alien beast, appeared a dream too monstrous to wake screaming from. Those still moments all captured together in a net of consciousness, sewed by the unsteady hands of fate, and birthed by the lies that whispered reality...

But maybe I'm thinking to much. Yes, I think that maybe I think too much.

I remember her voice. Silk rustling across wind chimes, a vibrant timber that tingled across my expectant spine, stoking the dying embers in my iced eyes. She was beauty, the eternal flame that cast light forever while I nestled in the dark recesses of obscurity. Her voice, it made me want to sing, to be a beauty and melt the frozen flames in these eyes. So I sang.

I shift now in thought, these contemplations tumbling in banners across recollection. The wine glass lighted in my palm remembers the forgotten years bitter like berries untouched by Spring. No, she never understood. Even when I told her of these things, her great beauty and my great pain, she stayed blindness to her hand, blundered into carelessness. For it was she, my beloved Saya, that did these things. Without thought, without care, and without reason, her motives a weak elixir to the taint consuming her delicate flesh, flesh that should burn, an ivory shell that I would crack into the nothingness she made me.

I don't feel the glass shatter. The blood tempts my throat with an ache crying for relief.

All I ever wanted was relief.

The needles, they never stopped. The vials, the tubes, the tests, the scientists with eager hands that roamed while deadened was my form, the roaches that found sanctuary under my tattered shirt, the screeching rats that I gladly feasted on when food never came, they never stopped, oh gods why would they not stop, and I shudder with self-loathing, cringing into myself like an animal snapped in a trap, crunchy sweetness so tender, so kind to feed me..

Smiling, I enter the bathroom, the tub, let the water trail across my newly acquired body. This vessel had been chosen merely out of necessity, not preference. Had it my way, that delicious Chevalier of Saya's would be my new form in all its lean muscled beauty. But no, he had to ruin everything, just like stupid Saya. Haji was intended to serve me in the beginning, was MINE to begin with, mine alone, was to bear MY children, but now he was chasing the heart of a nitwit too clueless to know of his affections and too distracted to care.

They were all so, so stupid. And in the end they all died as mongrels should-crumbled at my feet with their lifeblood drenching the ground. The smile comes again, no, it never seems to leave, just like these memories chasing, forever chasing prey long subject to its wiles. Predators, that's what my mind made, predators of the past, unforgiving, cruel, so cruel that even I could not fathom such sorrow.

Virginity was a game to the jackals that played with innocent flesh. Then too I felt the pain, the trembling ripping in my loins that brought blood falling like tears down numb legs.

No, not really. I never felt the first time. I felt nothing across flesh, only a seared scar across my mind. Morphine drips through an I.V. , like molasses across rough stone, like turtles through the snow, like the prayers I prayed for my sister to save me, every single day that she breathed freedom and I drank of enslavement.

How I tasted his blood, lathered and luxuriated in it, watched him scream for mercy while he rolled across the scarlet earth. No good deed goes unpunished they say, so what of a malicious one? No matter he's asleep now, remains scattered to uncharted ends of the earth. What a shame he had to go so soon, and now the predator is back, eating at my insides, gnawing with hands and teeth, greedy eyes poised to watch the show of the unwilling, I step out of the shower as the blood makes it way down to my feet and down the drain of forgetfulness.

Smile.

There it is again, the incessant tugging at the corner of my lips, that taut skin baring glittering fangs of which I gladly bit out the throats of many tasty rats. Lovely, oh so lovely, I love love love love love love love it, this elation and what was I speaking of?

Ah, the past. Delicious mementos of something pushed aside. Idly I lick at the healing cut on my hand, stretch out naked on my bed, feeling the little pop pop pop of spine. Refreshed shut my eyes, hearing the tick-tick-tick of the clock, so like the clock-tower that served as my only reminder of time.

Solomon, sweet Solomon, he too had betrayed me for my perfect sister, his still beating Chevalier heart quivering at the site of crimson eyes which had not affection even for the servant who sang her lullabies, splintered bone and spilled blood to keep his Queen safe. Silly Solomon. Why would she want him when she did not want what she already had? My thoughts keep lingering on these things, Saya and me, me and Saya, Saya and Solomon, Haji and Me, an eclectic pattern which meaning was lost on. Soon enough she would suffer, suffer like I had all those years, hundreds of years of damned torment while she alone basked in the joys of life!

Yes, I think, this will suffice. First I will cut those lovely rubies from her face, carve the mystifying orbs oh so carefully, letting not a blood droplet emerge or taint her flawless features, pluck them with hands as delicate as a bird-shell if need be. Sight will not be hers to bear, for she will scream blindly as I did when they bound me, tying the red bandana across my whimpering face and gagging me in hopes to silence their consciences once and for all. But what of the lips? Yes, yes, lips, would be next. I will slice the blasphemous extensions from her jaws, cut them cleanly and quickly, as efficient as the dim lighting will allow in the darkened room. They would have their own place alongside the lolling eyes that mock me, that taunt me, that forever haunt me.

The ceiling looks so strange as I peer at it now. Even years from my imprisonment, it is hard to accustom myself to a ceiling without drips or mold or cold stone. I stretch up, bitten nails grasping in vain at a surface too bold to oblige and meet my slender hands.

The hand drops and my own lips sigh in dejection.

What would be last? What part of her would I take from that pantomime, Saya, that silent gutless wretch who lit the world afire with her grace, that celestial beast who tore the very heart our mother gave me right from my bosom, that sadistic enthrallment I claimed as sister? Restless, I sit up, wandering to my closet, tossing the door ajar, rooting deep into it's depths. There!

A warm smile lights up my eyes, I can feel its heat ebbing across my cheeks, heating my lips until they bloom into a wide grin. Clasping the jar in my hands I pirouette, laughter bursting forth with exuberance, then fall to my bed in a giggling heap, glittering eyes awash with eternal iced flames. No, I do not know yet of what I would take last, which precious puzzle piece I shall strip from the exquisite Saya. But at at least I now have inspiration. The sacred source of my intentions float aimlessly, the orbs rocking to and fro at my swaying urges, gentle proddings for them to about face so that I may see their perfection. One cut was all it took for me to take these from him. One quick slash and he was a man no more.

Smile just as broad, the container tilts, leaving me to stare into the loss of one's manhood and the gaining of another's.

...

**Author's Note:**

**Yeah, this was a little creepy, even for me. The good thing is that any discrepancies can be attributed to Diva's insanity. :)) Hope you guys liked it and um..yeah those were indeed his um..**

**Sincerely,**

**Angels and Immortals**


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